


Heavy Rhythm Taking Over

by wave_of_sorrow



Category: Sherlock Holmes & Related Fandoms, Sherlock Holmes (2009)
Genre: Clothed Sex, Fingerfucking, M/M, Masturbation
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2010-07-06
Updated: 2010-07-06
Packaged: 2017-10-10 10:21:59
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,827
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/98656
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/wave_of_sorrow/pseuds/wave_of_sorrow
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Watson is out on his rounds and Holmes engages in some self-abuse, thinking he has enough time before Watson comes back home.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Heavy Rhythm Taking Over

**Author's Note:**

> Originally posted to my LJ as a response to a Kinkmeme prompt.

Holmes lay stretched out on the rug in front of the fire, his clothes an untidy heap by his feet, a glass vial filled with oil to his right, within easy reach. He knew Watson would be out on his rounds for at least another hour, which left him with about 47 minutes in which he could thoroughly indulge himself, twelve minutes to clean himself up, dress, open the windows and remove all evidence of his activities and one to two more minutes to take a seat in his chair and light his pipe, before Watson came home.

 

He had it all planned out as he sighed contently and stretched luxuriously, the heat of the fire warming his skin and making him almost drowsy as he gently tugged at his half hard cock, rolling it between his palms, coaxing it to swell and harden further. Closing the fingers of one hand around his erection, he moved the other to pinch and roll his already hardened nipples, making his cock jump in his grip. He lightly ran his fingernails down his chest, leaving quickly fading marks, as he squeezed his cock, arching into the touch a bit.

 

After giving himself a few languid strokes from root to tip he reached for the small glass vial, pouring a generous amount of scented oil onto his fingers, a few drops drizzling onto his chest. Holmes’ entire body started to thrum with pleasurable anticipation of what was about to come. As he gently, slowly rubbed his slick fingers over his cock he massaged the stray drops on his chest into his skin, delighting in the slick glide of rough palm against smooth chest.

 

He hummed in the back of his throat as small drops of warm oil dripped down onto his balls and, spreading his legs a bit, he reached down to cup and roll them in his slick palm, gasping and moaning at the sensation. In his mind, a scenario was forming and, despite his best efforts to stop thinking of Watson when pleasuring himself, he couldn’t stop the groan from escaping his throat as he imagined it was Watson’s hands pinching his swollen nipples and gently tugging at his sac.

 

Holmes paused for a moment to pour more oil into his hands, closing his fist around his straining cock as he squeezed  his balls once before scraping his thumbnail over the hot skin of his perineum. His back arched and he gasped, spreading his legs wider and angling his hips to be able to run his fingers along the cleft of his arse. Soft moans filled the thick air as he circled his puckered hole with the tip of one slick finger, rubbing at the sensitive skin until his cock twitched in his grip and a light sheen of sweat covered his neck and upper chest.

 

Slowly he pushed his finger inside, feeling the strong muscle clench around the intruding digit. For a moment he stilled, waiting for his body to relax and adjust to the feeling, then he started to wriggle his finger around a bit, rotating it slowly and feeling his muscle loosen. He started to rhythmically thrust his finger into his hole, taking it slow, knowing he had time to draw it out. He bit his lip and threw his head back, groaning, as he pushed a second finger inside, thumb rubbing at the base of his cock.

 

Squeezing his cock tightly as his fingers pressed against his prostate, making his toes curl, he groaned loudly. Pre-come covered the head of his cock and slowly trickled down the shaft, already slick and glistening with oil. Breathy moans mingled with throaty groans in the thick air, the only sounds aside from the obscene, slick noise of the lubricant being rubbed into Holmes’, fingers pumping into him rhythmically.

 

Holmes’ hips jerked upwards as he carefully stretched himself, scissoring his fingers and feeling himself clench around them. He started to slowly jerk his cock, thumb swiping over the swollen puffy head every once in a while, as he pushed another finger into his hole, alternating between massaging his prostate and sliding them in and out, stretching himself further.

 

With his eyes screwed shut he imagined it was Watson fingering him, slowly fisting his cock, whispering obscenities into his ear. Holmes threw his head back, sweat beading on his forehead and upper lip as he began to writhe on the rug, blindly seeking more pleasure, strangled groans escaping his throat. His mind was hazy with pleasure, white hot sparks lighting up behind his closed eyelids, toes curling and back arching, so he didn’t hear it until it was already too late. Just as he started to speed up his rhythm, the door flew open.

 

“Holmes, I…” Watson stopped short, eyes fixed on Holmes, who too had frozen.

 

Holmes eyes were wide open, staring at the ceiling, one of his hands was still around his cock, his fingers were still inside him and a tiny part of him wished he would at least have the decency to go flaccid or blush. But instead his cock twitched ever so slightly in his grip as Watson’s scent filled the air.

 

In the split second it took for Holmes to make up his mind, Watson felt a shiver run down his spine, his trousers tightening just a tiny bit. And then Holmes dark eyes were fixed on his, a hungry, challenging look in them as he slid his fist up and down his cock, once, slowly.

 

“I didn’t expect you to be back so soon, old boy.” It came out as hardly more than a breathy moan.

 

Watson cleared his throat awkwardly, a blush spreading from his cheekbones to his ears and down his neck, “Well, I…”

 

He was distracted by Holmes low groan as he twisted his fingers inside of him. Watson was transfixed by Holmes’ slick hand on his cock, red and swollen and glistening, straining against his stomach, the visibly soft skin of his balls, his arsehole stretched around his fingers… He swallowed hard as his own cock began to swell in response to the sight of Holmes flushed and sweaty and wanton.

 

The slow twist of Holmes’ fist around his erection made Watson’s head snap up, eyes locking with Holmes’.

 

“Please, do continue,” Holmes breathed, licking his lips and continued to pleasure himself.

 

It took Watson a moment to comprehend the meaning of Holmes’ words. He was tempted to just flee the room and stroke himself off in the bathroom, but he saw the challenging spark in Holmes eyes and knew that’s exactly what Holmes expected him to do. So he sat down on the settee, carefully crossing his legs, and began to tell Holmes’ about his day.

 

At first, Holmes’ eyes were watching Watson’s face and he seemed to be genuinely listening, even as his back arched slightly and soft moans escaped him every so often. Watson talked about his patients, the pretty young lady that had brought him homemade scones as a thank you for curing her mother, potential new cases, anything that came to his mind. Occasionally Holmes replied with groans or tiny gasps.

 

At some point Holmes’ eyes fluttered closed and Watson allowed his gaze to travel from Holmes’ face down his flushed chest, his stomach, to his groin. Heat pooled between Watson’s crossed legs and though he knew he kept talking, he had no idea what he was saying, as he watched Holmes stroke his cock, hips bucking upwards as his fingers presumably brushed against his prostate. Holmes bit his bottom lip and spread his legs just a little further, pushing down onto his fingers. Unconsciously Watson licked his lips and leaned forward to get a better view, missing the smug smile that tugged at the corners of Holmes’ mouth.

 

Holmes twisted his fingers inside of him, his thumb brushing against the base of his balls. Watson’s voice dropped a bit lower, getting slightly breathless as his cock swelled and hardened in his trousers and he undid the first buttons of his collar, feeling curiously flushed and hot. Holmes sped up then, fisting his cock harder, thrusting his fingers faster, groans growing louder and louder. He breathed in Watson’s scent that had mingled with his own in the stuffy air, focused on Watson’s low voice, imagining he was saying dirty things to him.

 

Watson was still talking, but his voice was getting somewhat breathy and even though Holmes had stopped listening long ago, even though he had no idea what Watson was telling him, he did hear the word “come” with startling clarity. And with a loud groan, back arching and hips bucking, Holmes spent himself over his own fist and stomach, clenching around his fingers.

 

Watching Holmes come made Watson fall silent. He didn’t know where to look, what with Holmes’ mouth wide open, releasing a stream of groans, his head thrown back, the cords in his neck standing out, his chest glistening in the firelight, his back arched, hips bucking madly, his cock twitching and jerking as it released thick spurts of sticky come. Watson moaned breathlessly, almost silently as Holmes’ body jerked one more time before going utterly limp and relaxed. But not silently enough of course.

 

Holmes chest was still heaving as he turned his head and looked at Watson with somewhat glassy eyes. He licked his lips and idly swirled his fingers through the mess on his stomach, biting his lip as he pulled his fingers out of his hole. He narrowed his eyes slightly at Watson, scrutinizing his flushed face.

 

“Need a hand with that, old boy?” Holmes asked breathlessly, nodding towards Watson’s crotch.

 

Watson blushed even more and shifted uncomfortably, biting his lip and wondering what on earth he should do.

 

Holmes smirked at him and lazily crawled over, pushing Watson’s legs apart and nuzzling his cock through his trousers. Watson gasped, hands gripping the edge of the settee. Holmes mouthed the hot bulge, hands spreading Watson’s legs further, thumbs just barely brushing his groin through the heavy fabric. Watson was about to undo his flies when Holmes began sucking his cock through his trousers, saliva and pre-come dampening the fabric, making it scratch roughly against sensitive skin.

 

Watson grabbed Holmes’ head, hips bucking as Holmes sucked harder, one hand rubbing the wet fabric against his balls and then Holmes hummed softly around Watson’s clothed cock, throbbing and begging for release. And it was too much. With a barely muffled shout Watson spent himself in his trousers. Holmes licked and sucked at the wetness growing between Watson’s legs, breathing hotly against it, making Watson twitch and shudder.

 

After recovering themselves Holmes got up, cleaned himself up and brought Watson a new pair of trousers and a wet cloth. With a lazy smile he sprawled in his armchair and watched Watson blush and smile at him sheepishly, determined to make Watson blush some more in the very near future.


End file.
